


Simple Words

by gardakuka



Category: A Song of Ice and Fire & Related Fandoms, A Song of Ice and Fire - George R. R. Martin, Game of Thrones (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Modern Setting, Elections, F/M, Fluff, GUESS WHAT, Humour, Politics, Reference to My Other Fanfic, This Fanfic is Just a One Fat Reference, it's crack again
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-11-15
Updated: 2019-11-15
Packaged: 2021-02-01 07:37:04
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 4,567
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/21441691
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/gardakuka/pseuds/gardakuka
Summary: Looking at his ugly face on the big billboard, Sandor really wanted to melt into the ground.But it was already the last week before the final elections, so he didn't really have a choice.
Relationships: Sandor Clegane/Sansa Stark
Comments: 11
Kudos: 52





	Simple Words

**Author's Note:**

> I told you I am going away and won't post anything - WELL, I LIED  
Anyway, that's a short stupid crack fanfic I wrote on my way. It's kinda influenced by my other fanfic (the one where Sandor becomes the King lol), and there are also LOADS of references to some IRL events in different countries. So if you will try to read it as not just a stupid crack, you might find some of them :'D  
They are living in a some sort of a Modern Westeros, but the political life here is a mixture of Western and Eastern politics of our world.  
And the title is borrowed from the godlike musical 'The Fix'.  
And English is still not my first language.  
And I am really doubting my life choices right now.

It was just a dull joke. A very stupid, dull joke, which started months ago when he was sharing some drinks with Bronn, Jaime, and his younger brother he met for the first time in his life. To be honest, Sandor didn’t like Baratheons and Lannisters very much, Jaime was the only exception, as he decided to step out from the political path every member of his family followed, and became a freelance photographer. The story of their meeting was quite a funny one (the time Sandor decided that it was a time to finally took Stranger, his huge black maine coon, outside on a leash, and the cat first scared the shit out of a not so sober blonde man - who had sobered up straight away and begged Sandor to take some pictures of his cat), but after learning his surname, Sandor decided that he will avoid the rest of his huge family until the end of his day. But then Jaime decided to bring Tyrion with him to a pub where he, Sandor, and Bronn had their regular weekly meetings, and this young man appeared to be nothing as his father. And sister. And goodbrother.

Tyrion Lannister was a lawyer, he had a wicked sense of humour, and after a couple of pints, he was already drunk.

“You know what,” he announced while eyeing Sandor. “I think you should enter the next elections.”

“Oh yes, and everyone will elect me ‘cause they will be pitying my ugly face,” Sandor snorted.

“No, wait, that’s a really good plan!” Tyrion hiccupped and dig out a small notebook from his pocket. “Pen, anyone?”

Jaime offered him his, and Sandor decided he didn’t like Jaime after all.

“First,” Tyrion wrote a huge _ 1 _ on the first page. “You have a degree, right?”

“I don’t think that Master of Game Design will make a good president,” Bronn snorted.

“That’s not an issue,” Tyrion waved his hand and made some small notes in his notebook. “My nephew wants to run for the post as well, and I think everyone in the whole Westeros knows that in reality, he is Master of Paying Huge Bribes. And he is currently the most possible candidate to become the next country president. So.”

“So?” Sandor narrowed his eyebrows.

“The reason number two is that you are just a simple guy with a simple background - I don’t think you were engaged in any sort of political rubbish before. And you are just a simple gut from a simple family of workers.”

“From a dead family, to be more precise,” Sandor grumbled, but it didn’t stop Tyrion at all.

“Which means,” he raised index finger. “You won’t be stealing money for your family and thousands of relatives. So people will have an impression you won’t take any extra penny from them.”

“But I don’t want to take any pennies from them anyway.”

“And we can include these words into your campaign. So trust me, seeing a simple man in front of them, who has nothing but the purest intentions and a strong support from the public, the rest of the people will happily cast their votes in your favour.”

“The only strong support I have is when I am suffering from hangover and Stranger purrs into my ear as if he swallowed thousands of helicopters while I was sleeping.”

“But that’s not a support,” Jaime frowned.

“He thinks it is.”

“Don’t worry about it,” Tyrion shrugged. “I know a very good PR manager. She could sort all these things out very quickly, trust me. And she is a wise girl.”

“And how do you know it?”

“She broke up with my nephew the day after they started dating,” Tyrion snorted. “So she _ is _wise.”

“Whatever,” Sandor shrugged. “But I have another question for you, Tyrion. Have you ever considered the path of a stand-up comedian?”

“Nope,” Tyrion answered honestly.

“But you definitely should, with your wicked sense of humour.”

“Maybe one day - after we will get a decent president, you know.”

“Which means never,” Bronn peeped in, and all of them - except Tyrion, - burst out laughing.

“I’m confident Sandor will make a decent leader of this poor country,” he shrugged again, his right hand making notes as if on its own accord. “Because I have already told you - you are just a simple guy with simple words and thoughts.”

“In other words, a moron.” Bronn cracked up.

“Bugger off,” Sandor grumbled.

“I used this word in a _ good _way,” Tyrion sighed. “And trust me, Bronn, a moron would never be able to get himself a maine coon. Otherwise, this beast would enslave him completely.”

Then Bronn started to count all things which, in his opinion, meant that Sandor was already deeply enslaved by his cat, then Jaime started to blabber something about his new girlfriend. then Sandor made a stupid joke and Tyrion said this one _definitely _should be included into his campaign, and then more drinks were brought to their table and Bronn announced that as a future president Sandor needs to pay for all of them, which lead to the fact that all four of them spent the rest of the night trying to write a proper election manifesto for Sandor (with some obligatory locker-room jokes and promises of free pints to everyone who could prove he never had any ties with the political elite).

Then Sandor went home, listened to Stranger’s loud scolding, and fell asleep on a little couch in front of the TV.

The next morning was his self-proclaimed day off, but he was still woken up quite early. There was that noisy doorbell sound which was driving Stranger crazy, and he jumped on Sandor’ back and started to scratch it while purring happily. So Sandor had to wake up, find his pants (the socks were nowhere to be seen, and judging by Stranger’s look they had rejoined their dead brothers somewhere under the bed in the next room), and open the door.

Then he was blinded by the radiant beauty of a woman, who was standing on his threshold, her hands crossed on her chest, and her eyes scanning him as if she was some sort of a detective.

“Well,” she said in her _pretty _voice, and Sandor blinked - after all, she wasn’t the product of his imagination.

“Well?” he repeated, feeling himself very dull.

“Looks like there’s _loads _of work to be done,” the young woman said. “I’m Sansa Stark, by the way.”

“Sandor Clegane,” he grumbled, and Sansa nodded.

“I know. Tyrion had sent me almost everything he knew and what his agency was able to find about you just in a couple of hours. I had only briefly looked through your file, to be honest, but I understood straight away there will _ loads _of work with you.”

“What work?” Sandor mumbled confusingly.

“To make you a proper presidential candidate.”

Sandor cursed, and that Sansa Stark had wrinkled your nose.

“Unfortunately, you will have to change your habits - and look after your language as well. I know people will be happy to see a _ very _simple man as their leader - but _that _type of cursing is a bit too much. Anyway, we will work on it. May I come in?”

Sandor wanted to say a very strong _no _and close the slam the door in front of her face, but probably it was the only chance in his life when a radiant beauty will be sitting in his kitchen and drinking his favourite tea (and maybe even being dominated by Stranger, who knows), so he nodded and let Sansa Stark in.

As soon as he closed the door after her, his whole life became a huge mess.

Sansa Stark knew her job very well. She also had some important names in her contact list, and after a couple of hours sitting in Sandor’s flat, drinking his tea, and petting Stranger’s belly (the black wanker turned a big fluffy puddle while laying on her lap and purring), she _happily _announced that finally there was some sort of plan they could follow - and that at 5 pm they will have a meeting with the rest of their small team.

“I’m not running for the office,” Sandor cut her off when she was telling him about the importance of his speech. “It was a dull joke Tyrion came up while drunk as a sailor.”

“He looked quite sober this morning,” Sansa shrugged. “And sounded very serious too. And knowing Tyrion, there won’t be any possibility for you to escape his plans.”

There was, and Sandor decided that he could spare some quids to the plane ticket somewhere to Myr. He decided not to tell Sansa Stark about it, and to look less suspicious he even agreed to come to the meeting she suggested.

“And _that _is going to be my team?” he hissed when both of them arrived at a restaurant for an initial meeting. “A shitty lawyer, a lass with a twenty-centimetre make up layer, an ex-convict, and the brother of the worst vice we ever had?”

“Tyrion is a _ very _clever guy, and he will be leading the majority of the things in your campaign, as well as looking after our budget. Margaery might look air-headed, but she is a brilliant journalist, and you know that we will need support from that side as well - the rest of the newspapers is already supporting Joffrey. Talking about Davos, you should know very well that his conviction was a stupid mummery, just to make him silent for a while - and now his connections will be a great help to us. And Stannis Baratheon is just simply Stannis Baratheon. We won’t win without him by our side.”

“And what about your naive idea of offering people a candidate who will be clean of any connection to any member of our pretty political elite?”

“Stannis has never been deeply involved into politics,” Sansa shrugged. “Yes, he was a confidant of his brother that time Robert Baratheon was running for the office, but so many people were his confidants as well. I mean, judging by the type of guy you are, you are still watching movies where Selmy stars - and thousands of people are doing the same. And he was not only the confidant of Robert, but a couple of years earlier supported Rhaegar Targaryen. So, I don’t think that having Stannis by our side will cause any issues.”

“He wasn’t just a confidant, he is a philanthropist and a Baratheon.”

“And _that _might help us to drag to your side people who are supporting Baratheons, but still don’t want to see Joffrey as the next president. Because they know he will make a shitty president.”

“Tyrion said you two were dating?”

“For one day and a half,” Sansa Stark wrinkled her face.

“Was he so terrible in bed?” Sandor decided to make a joke attempt.

“It was because he was a fat liar and a big douchebag. Luckily, I’ve never learned how he acts in bed.”

“Probably like a douchebag as well,” Sandor mumbled, feeling some sort of relief.

Maybe Tyrion was right and this girl _was _a wise one.

But Sansa Stark didn’t comment on his remark, she just latched on to his sleeve and dragged him to their table, so Sandor could meet this strange team and explain once more that he didn’t have any desire to run for a president, as it was just a very stupid drunk joke.

Until it wasn’t.

Everyone in the team took Tyrion’s joke too seriously - even Tyrion himself.

“Listen,” he tried to explain to a very angry Sandor. “I know we were drunk and stuff, but the whole idea is a brilliant one. I mean, people are tired of being ruled by the same politicians with the same perspectives on life and their wallets. People need fresh blood in the office, the one who could shake the old system and who will be able to to put himself into their shoes. The only problem is that ordinary people are not so keen to call themselves independent candidates and try to participate in the elections.”

“I’m not keen too,” Sandor answered, and received a furious stare from Sansa Stark straight away.

“But with the help of our lovely team, you’ll change your mind very soon,” Margaery giggled, sounding confident.

Well, Sandor didn’t. Yes, he accepted his fate and decided to participate in their buggering flying circus. He agreed on Stannis’ terms about the fundings and making their office in one of the Proudwing Ltd’s buildings, and let Tyrion to deal with the sponsors and expenses. He decided that there was no way he will be involved into the signature collection, which was needed to get enough names on the list of people who would support his decision to stand as an independent candidate - but Davos was able to deal with it on his own, Well, on his own and hundreds of volunteers he was able to assemble all over the whole Westeros.

When his name had finally appeared on the CEC webpage, Sandor was still not okay with the whole dull idea. He called Jaime and took him out for some pints, and the next day there was Sansa Stark on his threshold once again.

“Your drunk photos are on _every _media platform,” she said, looking like a very hot angry viper.

“And you are in my house again,” he mumbled, taking her phone and scrolling down the opened webpage. “Hey, but people are not expressing any concern or disappointment, they’re just talking that I’m a simple and down-to-earth guy who can spend time with his friend in a tiny pub, not like _ some rich blond douchebags _.”

“There’s no mention of these douchebags in the comment section at all?”

“But I’m sure people meant it,” Sandor snorted, holding out her phone. “Would you like some tea?”

He had already learned that Sansa Stark would never mind a cup of his tea and some moments with purring Stranger on her lap.

Funny enough, but Sandor was right. The fact that he was still leading more than a simple lifestyle even after becoming an official candidate for the upcoming elections had turned some people to his side. Some articles from Margaery helped too, and at some point, he was even taking the lead in the pre-election polls which made Sandor to freak out.

“No need to worry,” Tyrion, the unspoken leader of his campaign, tried to calm him down. “I know that we planned to make people trust you - and like you too, even despite your face and stuff, - but we are now in the middle of a political battlefield. Things can change here very drastically.”

Well, Tyrion was right. Unfortunately.

The next day Sandor woke up in the morning and found a very angry Jaime Lannister on his threshold.

“I swear to gods,” he almost shouted as soon as the door behind him as closed. “I will get this little shit and choke him off with my camera cord, and I won’t give any single damn his is my bloody nephew.”

“Calm down,” Sandor waved his hand. “I know that Joffrey is a douchebag - but we all know that the douchebags deserve pity from us. And not be our reasons for us to go to jail.”

“This little shit deserves,” Jaime wrinkled his face. “I’ve sent you a link - you can check it if you want.”

“And if I don’t want?”

“You can leave it as it is. But don’t be too surprised when the journalists will start to ask you some provocative questions or call you a hustler.”

“Call me a _ what _?” Sandor coughed in a surprise, reaching for his phone which was sprawled somewhere in the box of toys he was getting for Stranger.

Jaime had sent him a link to an article, which contained some pictures taken by a sneaky cameraman near the restaurant where he and Jaime were quietly celebrating Jaime’s engagement. That day, he was about to leave to get some food and a good conversation with his friend, as well as get to know his future wife, when Sansa Stark arrived with a pile of paperwork he had to fill. Sandor didn’t have enough time for it, so he had to take Sansa with him - she was driving to the restaurant, while Sandor was putting his signatures to some pre-election documents. When they arrived, Sandor offered her to come with him - to get a nice dinner as some sort of reward for her help. Sansa Stark didn’t wear proper clothes to end her day in the restaurant, but she shrugged and said that she’ll go with him. And it was Jaime who was paying for the whole meal anyway.

Sandor helped her to get out of the car, offered his hand to look more polite and proper, and then they spent a very pleasant couple of hours with Jaime and Brienne, who appeared to be a quite nice woman - at least she was able to scold Jaime when it was needed. Then, after three courses of meal and couple of drinks, they decided to go home - Sandor offered to get a cab and take Sansa to her place first, and then head to his flat on the same cab - he agreed with Brienne that it will be better not to push his luck and leave his car here until the next day. And that was how that afternoon ended. End of story.

It wasn’t the end of the story for some journalists and cameraman who probably worked on Joffrey - a couple of very specific angles and a made-up story, and now Sandor was reading an article about how he had _bought _himself a _ tart_, took her to the fancy restaurant, paying for it from his _campaign’s budget_, and then left with her afterwards to spend a _ pleasurable night _in one of the most expensive hotels of the city. There was even a short ‘interview’ with the hotel worker who ‘confirmed’ that the potential leader of the country had frightened hotel’s staff with his rude behaviour, and that looked like something Joffrey could pay for.

“Can I choke off this wanker myself?” Sandor asked his friend, trying not to throw his phone at the wall.

“I’m giving you my blessings,” Jaime grumbled. “This is really too much, and I tried to talk to my sister - but of course she was just blinking innocently and saying that sweet Joffrey would never do something like this.”

“Bugger her sweet Joffrey,” Sandor barked, and Jaime nodded with a sad look.

“I’m worrying about Sansa,” he said. “She is a nice girl, but I am afraid this will break her.”

“We can always hire a detective through Tyrion and confirm this article is just a piece of rubbish.”

“We can,” Jaime agreed. “But even with the confirmation it still will break Sansa.”

Jaime was right, Sansa Stark was a very delicate person who was bubbly, funny, and always open-minded, but at the same time, her opinion on propriety and all other shit was too old-fashioned. Probably something to do with her parents, whose very distant ancestors were some sort of medieval lords. So Sandor decided he needed to pay a visit to Sansa and talk to her - but as soon as he went downstairs and walked to his car, he was suddenly surrounded by a bunch of annoying journalists with their stupid questions.

Was that girl a _ prostitute_? If yes, will Sandor Clegane legalise prostitution t in case he will be elected? How much did he pay for the meal in one of the best restaurants of the whole Westeros? Did he fight with the hotel’s receptionist? Are the tales of his knocked-out tooth in the said fight real? Why he still wasn’t married and had to pay some ill-repute ladies for their services? Did members of his team knew he was stealing money from the budget to pay for his pleasures? What will he say at the upcoming TV debates after his reputation was reeled? Did that woman enjoyed the night with him or had to fake her pleasure?

“Bugger. Off. Please.” Sandor had to bark so loudly that two of the journalists had even jumped on their place. “I’m not going to give you any comments about it. Except the one that it wasn’t a _ woman of ill-repute_, as you bloody say.”

“Then who she was?” a bothersome journalist asked.

“My fiance.”

Sandor heard Jaime choking on his breath, and realised that now he owned a really big explanation to Sansa Stark.

“But I didn’t have another choice,” he mumbled to her as soon as she let him in later on.

“You could come up with any other lie, you know?” Sansa Stark looked furious - and her eyes were red, as if she spent some hours crying before Sandor and Jaime arrived at her place.

“You know I hate to lie,” Sandor’s mouth flinched. “And they were calling you _ names_, it was just too much.”

“But you lied anyway,” Sansa Stark shrugged. “So, why not to come up with a different sort of a lie then?”

“There’s a small difference between lying and delineating your wishes,” Sandor blurted, and Sansa Stark’s eyes went wide.

There was a muffled cough from the kitchen were Jaime was sitting (_ of course _he wasn’t eavesdropping, not at all), and then Sansa’s face went completely red, almost matching her hair.

When they had gathered up that evening, Davos announced that he had already tracked down the person behind the article.

“Strangely enough, but Joffrey has nothing to do with it,” he said.

“Then the bugger will live,” sighed Sandor and squeezed Sansa’s hand in his.

“Anyway,” Davos waved his hand. “Stannis had already asked some of his _friends _to pay a courtesy visit to Petyr Baelish and explain to him that it is not _proper _to pay for that sort of articles about his opponents. And about his childhood friend’s daughter too.”

“Baelish is a dead candidate anyway, he is on the bottom of all polls for weeks already - what was his point to make some sort of a rubbish article?” Sandor rasped.

“Because all tools can serve you great when you are at war,” Tyrion shrugged. “Of course, it’s the first time I’m seeing someone using a stinky sock as their main weapon, but here we are.”

“Still, even if all issues are more or less sorted,” Davos cast a glance at Sandor and Sansa’s hands. “We still cannot let things go and sit still. Our major TV debate will be held already the next week, and we need to make sure Sandor will be able to surpass all his opponents.”

“Daenerys is quite easy to pass, and I am sure Sandor will beat the shit out of Baelish - not literally, though,” Tyrion chuckled. “But we will have to prepare a good speech to be able to win over Joffrey. He has brilliant speechwriters working for his family, and that will be quite a difficult task, trust me.”

Tyrion was wrong.

Yes, it was easy to beat Daenerys Targaryen in a more or less friendly discussion, and with Baelish Sandor made sure he dragged his name in the mud (Sansa’s mother, who arrived from the North to sit at the audience during the debates, was probably his loudest supporter when he was dealing with Baelish). But Joffrey was a tough opponent, for sure - his speech was brilliant, his manners the ones of a gentleman, and he had learned all his homework well enough to look like a decent candidate. He was more preferable than Sandor even because of his appearance, and when it was Sandor’s time to say some words which would work as the closure of his whole campaign, he had finally realised that he had nothing to lose.

“You know what,” he shrugged while looking at the audience in front of him. “If I’ll tell you I entered the whole race just because of the stupid drunk joke, you will never believe me, especially after seeing all efforts me and my team made to help me get to the point where I am now. But yeah, it was a drunk joke - and now I’m kinda close to the pretty chair in the presidential castle. And I know that my words of the bright future and promises not to steal a penny from you won’t work - but yeah, the only thing I can offer you is the words that I am ready to do anything just to not fuck up people who will decide to choose my name on the ballot. That’s all.”

He got a big scolding from Tyrion later on, and a passionate kiss from Sansa, even despite the fact her _old-fashioned all-appropriate _mother was standing just steps behind them. Stannis, who was also here, was just secretly smiling without any extra word, as if he knew some secrets no one else did. But Sandor didn’t care.

“The whole election campaign was kind of worth it,” he said, when Sansa had finally let him go.

“Worth the kiss?” Bronn chuckled, his hand somewhere too close to Margaery’s waistline.

“Worth to say the f-word from the every buggering TV in the whole country,” Sandor snorted.

The media was talking about him for the whole weekend, and Tyrion had even changed his attitude to the gracious one after Sandor’s ratings went through the roof, but with each day the election date was coming closer and closer, Sandor started to feel more nervous and unsure of himself. And looking at his ugly face on the big billboard, Sandor wanted to melt into the ground

But it was already the last week before the final elections, so he didn't have a choice.

Tyrion told him it will be a good idea if they will gather in their office for the election night and stream their activities to some media platforms. According to him, it could make Sandor even closer to the audience, but for Sandor, it didn’t matter anymore. He agreed, and even arrived at the office before the final exit-polls announcement, but had refused to wear any formal wear, or at least a tie.

But he had brought Stranger with him, so at least the atmosphere in the office had changed for the better, as everyone was running around his huge cat and not paying attention to him. Except Tyrion and Stannis, who were all busy with the results, and Jaime, who took over the social media platforms, and Sansa, who was just by his side all the time, and that was all Sandor needed right now.

Well, there also were some journalists presented, but Davos made sure all of them will be more or less trusted ones - anyway, after Margaery’s huge article about his private life the attempts to blackmail him had finally stopped. Anyway, after a short interview, Sandor was free from their attention, and Sansa was still by his side, and when the results were announced Sandor was in a process of trying to get free from one of Sansa’s stupid ribbons, which somehow had stuck into his hair after their hug.

And of course, a video where the newly-elected president was trying to dig out the bloody pink rubbish from his hair had to become the viral one. What a dull joke, after all.

**Author's Note:**

> *and they lived happily ever after, until Joffrey decided to try to impeach his opponent and get the chair for himself, but it's a compeltely different story


End file.
